Not a Big Deal
by Glalie773
Summary: Slytherins throw parties. That's a fact. Hermione never wanted to ever go to one. Until a personal invitation from Draco Malfoy comes her way, and an unusual new emotion called jealousy starts filling up her brain. But really... she's only going to confirm for Ron and Harry that the Slytherins have a giant wall of firewhiskey. Really. Only reason.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! I came up with this idea months ago but I haven't had time to sit down and write it until now! This is a short chapter fic - too long for a one-shot, but not more than about 5 or 6 chapters. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"It is _not_," Hermione muttered to herself, thoroughly incensed, "a big deal."

And it wasn't. Really, it wasn't, and yet the whispers began at breakfast.

Hermione was, however, completely and utterly uninterested in anything that anyone had to say about that subject. She couldn't care less about the rumors, the excitement that was brimming over the top, the awe that was building up within the younger students. She was most likely the only one, though, as Ron skidded into the Great Hall at lunch, Harry hot at his heels and panting slightly.

"Get this," Ron hissed dramatically, looking around to make sure no eavesdroppers lurked about. Hermione calmly turned a page of her Arithmancy textbook, not even glancing up briefly, already sure she knew what the redhead was bursting to say. "It's _open_."

Yep.

"So I've heard," Hermione remarked dryly, and Ron's ecstatic face fell immediately.

"You know?"

A shrug. "Everyone's been talking about it." Suddenly, she felt a little cheeky. "You _just_ found out?"

Ron glared at her deeply as he and Harry slipped into the seats opposite Hermione. "We're getting in," he announced. Hermione stared at him for a moment before turning to Harry.

"He's serious?"

Harry shrugged, trying and failing to look as indifferent and bored as Hermione felt. "I guess."

"Then go," Hermione said irritably, stabbing at her salad. "And leave me alone while you're at it."

Harry shook his head. "Invitation only."

"Oh," Hermione said blandly. "Too bad."

Both Harry and Ron were glaring at her now. Hermione suppressed a smile. "The Slytherins are notorious for hating us," she said meaningfully, pointing her fork at each of them, "I doubt you're high on their list of guests."

"But the Slytherins are also notorious for throwing Slytherin_ only_ parties," Ron said quickly. "This is their first open mixed-House one! And we're _going_."

Hermione frowned disapprovingly as she slammed her textbook shut. Chewing thoughtfully, she sipped from her goblet and looked over at Harry. "And why are the Slytherin parties such a big deal? What happened to your rivalry?"

"What happened to your House unity?" he shot back, placing his elbows on the table and sighing. "This party will be... different."

"Different how."

"Different in the way that nobody will care about the different Houses," Ron said, Harry nodding beside him. "This is just pure_ party_."

"Sounds ridiculous," Hermione muttered. "And a lie." Harry and Ron ignored her.

"I heard they have walls just lined with firewhiskey," Harry murmured to Ron, who lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I bet it's true, they're all goddamn rich enough-"

"Okay," Hermione interjected, standing up. "I'm leaving."

And she did, exiting the Hall with her book under her arm and a scowl placed firmly on her face. Honestly, what was so great about getting trashed in a room full of bloody idiots? Nothing.

She arrived early to Arithmancy and stomped over to her table by the window, mouth still downturned. _Maybe the Slytherins wouldn't think so high and mighty of themselves if the rest of the school didn't treat them like gods_, she thought bitterly, placing her books on the desk and narrowing her eyes at nothing in particular out the window.

The rest of the class trickled in slowly, chattering loudly. To Hermione's disgust, the words "party" and "Slytherin" kept reaching her ears. A soft screech from beside her told Hermione that her assigned desk partner arrived - indeed, as she turned slightly, Draco Malfoy gave her a tiny lopsided smile and slid into the seat just a foot away.

For some reason, the next fifty minutes were unbearable.

Thoughts plagued Hermione all throughout the class period. Usually, she ignored the blonde that always sat next to her and dutifully scribbled down notes or practiced or did something that allowed her to pay no heed to Draco, but that day was different.

She was aware of him, too aware. He smelled good.

Immediately, Hermione pressed her mouth in a tight line and furrowed her brow, arms and back tensing. Peripherally, she saw Draco pause for a second and glance at her curiously, before turning back to his parchment.

Slowly, torturously, Hermione peeked at Draco sitting beside her, and wondered for a long moment how he acted during those wild parties that the Slytherins threw every week. Was he the life of the party? Did he get with every girl that came his way?

He seemed like the type. Hermione swallowed and turned to face the front, suddenly feeling a little sick. She wasn't stupid; she knew what emotions felt like. But she just didn't like the feeling she had just felt.

Jealousy.

The bell rang finally and after what seemed like three hours, and Hermione shot up in her chair, practically racing to the door and knocking into quite a few desks on her way. Almost impulsively, she shot a look over her shoulder to find Draco half-standing, mouth slightly parted and large gray eyes unblinking. His mouth closed slowly and he stared at her until she pursed her lips and bolted out the door.

Jealous. She was _jealous_.

Hermione burst into the bathroom, groaning and rubbing at her eyes. She blinked blearily into the mirror, eyeing her hair, her face, her clothes. Jealous. She was jealous. But there was nothing she could do except learn to _not _be jealous. She shouldn't even be jealous!

She moaned, putting her hands down on the sink and bowing her head to stare blankly at the drain. A toilet flushed behind her and a door squeaked open; clattering footsteps walked right to the sink next to Hermione.

Looking up briefly, Hermione felt another jolt as she met the blue eyes of Pansy Parkinson. _Great_, Hermione thought dryly. _Just what I need._

But Pansy merely stared at her for a long, long second before washing her hands and turning away, click clacking right out the door without one word.

The door slammed shut, and Hermione peered at herself in the mirror again, staring into dark brown eyes that looked at her reproachfully.

Shoulders slightly slumped, Hermione slowly opened the door and stepped out into the nearly empty corridor, just as a figure slunk out in front of Hermione. She jumped, unable to control the reaction. "Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her, before smirking broadly and extending one thin arm out without a word. At his fingertips was a dark green envelope. Hermione felt a feeling akin to horror.

"No," she said shortly, trying to turn away. Instead of looking put off, Draco's smile grew wider, and he spoke, a slow drawl that made Hermione's skin crawl.

"I insist."

"I politely decline," Hermione snapped, feeling anything but polite. Draco just looked more and more amused, making Hermione's aggravation levels spike. Couldn't he get _mad_ at her? She certainly was angry, and it would make a lot more sense if he was too. Actually, it would make the most sense if he was at the other end of the castle, not even talking to her.

"Well." And he reached out and pushed the envelope into the pocket of her shirt. Automatically, Hermione flushed, and Draco's eyes widened marginally. He made no other comment, however, and started to walk off.

Hermione snuck a glance at his retreating figure. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his hair gleaming in the firelight.

Clearing her throat, Hermione stalked off, the envelope practically burning a hole through her shirt. She shook her head, determined to chuck the thing in the fire the moment she could.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione gave in and ripped open the envelope, hands fumbling. She'd admit it... she was insanely curious on the contents.

It was short. Very short. Bizarrely short.

_10 pm.  
__Be there._

"Wasting paper," Hermione muttered.

A hand suddenly yanked the envelope out of her hands roughly. Hermione squeaked and whirled around only to see Ron and Harry standing there, mouths gaping.

"What the _hell_!" Ron practically screeched, holding the parchment by his fingertip, as if the paper was in danger of spontaneously combusting. "Why did she give one to you?"

Hermione felt insulted and confused. "One," she snapped, reaching out her hand. Ron dropped the letter - if you could call it that - back in sulkily. "I don't know. Two, it was a_ he_ not a _she_."

Harry looked mildly surprised. "Parkinson's doing all the delivering."

Ron sniggered. "Maybe you just confused her for a male."

_Oh dear God. Personal invitation by Draco Malfoy._

Ron stared at her unblinkingly. "So? Are we allowed in?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sure. Take my invitation. I'm not going."

"The envelope has your name on it," Harry mused, fingering the black ink. Hermione blinked; she had nearly missed that. "I bet you need this to get in... You have to go."

"I don't have to do anything," Hermione said stiffly.

"Yes! And then when you get in, sneak us in!" Ron said, eyes wide with a plan.

"No," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "This is some sick ego-boost that the Slytherins are doing to have everyone else practically begging at their feet to be allowed in some repulsive little hole of theirs in the dungeons."

Harry and Ron gazed at her, mouths partly hung open.

"You're going," Ron said firmly. "C'mon. Go in for at least five minutes, then just leave and tell us what it looked like. And who was invited."

Hermione groaned. That wasn't an especially hard favor, and Ron and Harry were both pouting at her.

"Fine. Five minutes _only _though."

Harry and Ron high-fived.

* * *

Hermione stood at the blank stone wall, feeling more than a little foolish. And more than a little scared.

She was voluntarily walking into the Slytherin common rooms, alone, at ten at night, and nobody knew where she was except for Harry and Ron. She should have told McGonagall, though she knew if she tattled, she would become incredibly unpopular with every student, guest or not.

So Hermione sighed, squinting through the dim light at the smooth stone. There were no markings, no recognizable door, no handle. Should she knock? Tentatively, Hermione extended an arm and rapped sharply on the rocks.

She felt like an idiot. What if Harry was wrong, and that wasn't where the common room was located? What if it was down the corridor, and they were all watching her, laughing and pointing at the stupid little girl who-

A hole appeared in the wall, and Hermione swallowed.

_Time to party._

* * *

_I hope you enjoy this new story! I'm having fun writing it :)._

_Glalie773_


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

* * *

A hole appeared and Blaise Zabini stood in the midst, arms crossed. Surprise flitted on his face for a second.

"Oh, fucking hell... _Draco_," he hissed, looking unnerved. Hermione shuffled her feet.

"Uh, I have my invitation," she couldn't help but whisper, shyly holding it out. Blaise didn't even glance at it.

"I should have known," he mumbled to himself. "God. Come in," he said, looking irritated. Hermione swallowed and stepped into the room.

Oh - fucking _hell_.

Every single person in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at her in blatant curiosity.

Hermione quaked in her shoes and cast a frantic glance around the room, searching, searching, searching for someone who was not _Slytherin_.

She was the only person from a different House.

"This is a joke," she choked out quietly. Blaise, from beside her, snorted.

"Tell me about it. Draco's got a sense of humor."

Hermione felt the blood rush from her face. She had been tricked. Swindled, by an idiot in silk robes. She felt drained.

And suddenly he was there, appearing out from behind a pillar, eyes alight with something. He held a steaming mug in one hand. He was also barefoot, while every other person was wearing his finest robes.

"My guest," he said smoothly, grabbing hold of Hermione's elbow and pulling her along the center of the room. Everyone stared at her in stony silence. Many looked outraged, most looked merely shocked, and a select few looked like they were trying very hard not to laugh.

_They, _as in _he_, as in Blaise Zabini only.

Draco dragged her all the way to the other side of the vast room, and pushed her roughly through a door. It slammed shut behind them, and Hermione felt nauseous.

She was going to die. Draco Malfoy was going to kill her, and-

Draco flopped down on a bed, presumably his, and peered at her mournfully over the rim of his cup. It was coffee, now that Hermione had a chance to look. A detached part of her raised her eyebrows at the obviously Muggle drink.

"So, what do you want to do?" he asked. Hermione gawked at him, pressing her back flat up against the marble wall.

"Leave?"

He didn't seem surprised. Sipping at his cup, he patted the mattress beside him. Hermione didn't budge, cheeks flushing a deep red. _God knows what they all think we're doing in here._

"Why am I in your room."

Again, he looked impassive. "Because you're the only one in this school besides me who doesn't like to party, and I wanted some company for a change, okay?"

Hermione was taken aback, then slightly offended - at what, she didn't exactly know. "How do you know I don't like to party?" she snapped. Draco's eyes sparkled.

"Okay. Do you?"

Hermione frowned.

He patted the bed.

This time, Hermione sat down.

"I assumed you'd be the party king," she said coolly, and Draco shrugged, wrapping his fingers tightly around his mug.

"Everyone assumes that. I like to be alone, though." His voice had an edge, a dangerous one. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Then why am I here?"

"Maybe I like to be alone with you." His eyes were wide with innocence, and Hermione pursed her lips.

"How come I'm the only non-Slytherin?"

"Because the real party doesn't start until midnight. But everyone starts drinking at five."

"_Five_?"

"Maybe five-thirty. I've been hiding out here for the past four hours," he said sourly.

Hermione almost said she would have come earlier if she knew. She blushed, something Draco evidently noticed. He blinked at her, and she stared back.

"What?" she asked, too defensively. He licked his lips.

"What did you just think?"

"Nothing," Hermione said impishly. Draco narrowed his eyes, before looking slightly pained and turning away. Hermione peered at him.

"What?"

"Not_hing_," he mocked. Hermione felt her nostrils flare.

"You don't drink?" she asked suddenly.

"What's with the interrogation?" Draco said brusquely, and Hermione locked eyes with him.

"Fine." They stared at each other unblinkingly. "So, what do you want to do?"

Draco smirked. "That's more like it."

* * *

Hermione stuffed a large cream puff into her mouth, eyeing the platter beside her and wondering if she should have another. _I mean, I already had five_, she thought uncertainly. But as she glanced across from her at Draco, who seemed to be inhaling an entire cherry pie, she shrugged and plucked up another.

A house-elf wandered over and proffered some milk, which Draco seized with a mumbled but seemingly genuine "thanks" and chugged, finishing the glass within seconds.

Hermione set down her cream puff, staring Draco down until he glanced up. "What?" he asked, blinking as he picked up a cupcake from the plate by his left foot.

"You're a _pig_," Hermione said, and Draco snorted loudly, before taking an obnoxious bite out of the cupcake, which, Hermione was almost disgusted to see, was filled with a copious amount of whipped cream. She set down her cream puff, suddenly feeling full.

"I eat," he shrugged his bony shoulders, and Hermione eyed his legs and torso, which were slim and toned. She watched in horror as Draco smacked his lips together and reached for a handful of crisps.

"Hamburger," he said abruptly, and Hermione started.

"Wha-"

"I want a hamburger." And he stood up and disappeared around a corner, where Hermione could hear him politely demand a hamburger with no onions.

With him gone, at least for a second, she had time to think about the situation. She was sitting on the floor of the kitchens, eating unwholesome amounts of junk food and talking civilly to Draco Malfoy, who now rounded the corner in his stupid bare feet, hamburger in tow.

"No onions?" Hermione asked, and silvery eyes flicked up.

He grinned. "No onions."

_That looks delicious_.

"Want a bite?" Draco asked, not looking at her but rather licking up some sauce that was dripping down one skinny wrist.

"No." Yes.

He reached out his hand, raising his eyebrows. "No," Hermione said again, "I'm full."

"One bite won't kill you," Draco said.

True.

She was right, it _was _delicious.

"Mhm," Draco murmured. "So, Granger, how come you don't like to party?"

Hermione glowered. "I never specifically said I didn't like to."

"You implied it."

"You inferred it."

"After you implied it." The bastard was laughing. Hermione swelled with anger, and Draco's eyes widened slightly. "Relax, Granger. I'm kidding. I don't like to party either."

"Why not?"  
"I asked you first."

"I just never have," Hermione said, staring into space. "I just never saw the appeal to it. And I hate the taste of alcohol."

"Ah."

"So why don't you party?"

Draco shrugged once, tapping his fingers idly on his leg. "Alcohol intolerance."

"Re_ally_?"

"Really," he replied, "but don't worry, I like keeping a level head anyway."

"I wasn't... worrying," Hermione said lamely, fighting the urge to smack herself on the forehead. Draco rolled his eyes, and suddenly, Hermione frowned.

"Why are we here?" she asked. Draco finished the last bite and swallowed deeply, before sighing and leaning back.

"I told you why we're here."

"I don't believe you," Hermione said, feeling a lump in her throat.

Draco looked at her oddly. "We'll talk about it next time."

"_Next time_?"

He didn't answer, but instead got to his feet and started padding toward the door, not even bothering to look back and see if Hermione was following. She eventually did, scowling deeply and glaring down at the tiled floor.

_This is such a weird night_.

Draco wandered aimlessly around the castle, hands shoved in his pockets and Hermione carefully watching him out of the corner of her eye. She wondered when he would give her the hint that he wanted her to leave. Or what if he had already done that, and she had missed it? Cheeks burning, she opened her mouth to say something when Draco suddenly plopped down in the middle of the corridor, staring up at Hermione expectantly.

"Yes?" she couldn't help but ask. He smirked at her, before shutting his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall.

She sat beside him, digging her bare toes into the plush carpeting, feeling the warmth from the torches heat her back. It was content. And so warm. _So warm._

And suddenly, horrifyingly, Hermione felt her eyes close, in the middle of the hallway, with Draco Malfoy looking down at her equally as sleepily.

Her eyes slid closed, and in her half-awake state, she felt herself snuggle up to a bony shoulder.

_Oh, damn_.

But at the moment, she really couldn't have cared less.

* * *

:)


End file.
